


Vigil

by laughter_now



Series: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder-'verse [8]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard can't stand being helpless, especially when it concerns the people he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything associated with the Star Trek franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This story is part of the "Absence makes the heart grow fonder"-'verse, though it can be read as a complete standalone story. It was written in response to a prompt at the kink meme.
> 
> First posted to my lj-journal on June 6th, 2010

**_Vigil_**   
  
  
Barivian Flu.  
  
An illness that had been known throughout the Federation for over a hundred years now. Curable. Children were inoculated against it at an early age. But some inoculations simply failed, without a warning or a proper reason. Still, Barivian Flu wasn't lethal. Uncomfortable, yes. It caused high fever, a bad cough, hurts and aches in every limb. A lot like a bad case of the human variant of the flu, and in an adult, it mostly ran its course within two to three days.  
  
On the fragile body of a four year-old, it was worse.  
  
Still not lethal, which was good because Leonard didn't know what he'd do if the diagnosis had been different. Even so, it was torture to watch David toss and turn fitfully on the biobed, his small body dwarfed by the sheer size of the bed. He had finally fallen asleep a little more than an hour ago, but so far it didn't seem as if that sleep was deep, let alone restful.  
  
Leonard himself was tired, but sleep was completely out of the question while their son was this sick.  
  
It had all started out so harmless. A leave, a visit to Jim's brother Sam, his wife and their sons on Deneva. It was supposed to be David's first real trip into space, and they had timed it so that they could catch a ride on Enterprise for their journey to Deneva. It had involved a bit of planning, and some wait until Enterprise was even anywhere near Earth, but in the end it had only taken a favor or two cashed in to make it possible.  
  
David had been thrilled to go into space. Of course he had, considering that for the past four years Jim had indulged him with daily stories about his fathers' time in space, Enterprise and the extended family aboard that he only knew from pictures and video calls as well as the occasional rare visit. The journey was supposed to take seven days, including a small detour to Starbase Twelve for supplies, and for the first two days everything had been fine.  
  
Jim had reveled in the fact that he was back in space, back on Enterprise again, even if it was just as a passenger and without official command. Leonard, too, had to admit that it was a good feeling to be back aboard again. Enterprise had been his home for nearly a decade, of course it felt good to come back here. Especially since most of the crew they had served with was still there. The holiday wasn't supposed to really start until they reached Deneva, but with so many people looking out for David and as much time for Jim and himself as they hadn't had in ages, Leonard couldn't help but feel like the trip on Enterprise was already the start of the holiday.  
  
And of course David had reveled in all the attention. He had been excited by the ship and all those new people, so much that he had barely spared a glance at his parents other than when it was time to eat or sleep. Whenever he hadn't been glued to his godparents' side, much to Jim's amusement about the indulgent yet stoic way Spock dealt with the four year-old's attention, David had flitted from crewmember to crewmember, requesting games and entertainment and letting them sneak him treats in between meals.  
  
Leonard and Jim had been indulgent about it because it was unlikely David was going to get to see these people again anytime soon once they departed. And when, on the second day of their stay aboard, David had thrown up all over Spock's shirt right after dinner, Leonard had still thought it to be a simple case of a little boy not knowing his stomach's limits for sweets.  
  
Two hours later, they had been in Sickbay, and Jim had been holding David in his lap as he puked bile into a kidney dish while Leonard had argued with Geoffrey M'Benga about whether or not he was giving a damn about the fact that Starfleet regulations said he couldn't even treat his own son.  
  
Leonard didn't remember the details, he remembered how a heated discussion about roles and responsibilities had turned into a shouting match about whether or not being a CMO outranked being a father. What had put a quick and final end to the flaring emotions had been when David started to cry in distress over the shouting voices.  
  
Leonard didn't like it. In fact, he hated it, because it made him feel helpless and – even worse – useless. But this was one instance where he had to be a father, and not a doctor.  
  
Once they had finally calmed enough for this to get settled, it didn't take long for M'Benga to come to a diagnosis.  
  
Barivian Flu.  
  
Damn it.  
  
The vomiting had stopped after a while, fortunately, but the fitful sleep was not much better. Over the course of the night, David's fever had risen constantly. Leonard hadn't left Medical once since they had brought their son here, and neither he nor Jim had gotten any sleep that night, either. It was impossible when their son was suffering like that, thrashing under the thin sheet, pale and sweating and calling out for them.  
  
Leonard tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached out for the cloth on David's forehead and checked it. It was warm, and only slightly moist, and he dunked it into the small basin of water he had put on an empty instrument tray beside him. Of course Geoffrey was giving David medication for the fever, medication that was more effective than this antiquated method, but it was what David was used to from when he got sick at home. And if the gesture helped him to feel at least a little comforted, Leonard dared anyone to say something against it.  
  
Besides, it was all he was allowed to do, anyway. Geoffrey had been very clear about his opinion on what he called _emotionally involved backseat doctoring_. And Leonard _knew_ that David was in good hands. He trusted Geoffrey, and the rest of the medical team. It hadn't escaped his notice either that Geoffrey was pulling a double shift, or that either he or Christine Chapel were always within calling distance. He trusted them, he just…David was his _son_. He should be able to do more than just sit here and renew the cold compress on his forehead once in a while.  
  
One of the monitors above David's bed beeped once, and immediately Leonard's head shot up, eyes scanning over the displays to find the source of the sound.  
  
David's fever had dropped to 103°. Finally. It had been hovering above the 103°-mark for too long already, but Leonard thought it should be lower than that by now. He remembered every medication Geoffrey had administered, had recalculated every dosage in his head, and by all rights the medication should have brought the fever farther down already. And Geoffrey didn't let him do any tests to figure out what the reason could be.  
  
What if something was wrong? What if David had an averse reaction to one of the medications? What if he was about to get worse instead of better?  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
It sounded far too weak and breathless, the voice small when it normally was exuberant and always a little too loud, and it clenched something inside of Leonard painfully as he drew his chair closer to the bed and pressed his palm against one feverish cheek.  
  
"Shhh, sweetheart. It's me, I'm here."  
  
Brown eyes opened a crack and glassily looked at Leonard.  
  
"Don't feel so good, Pops."  
  
Leonard traced his thumb over David's cheek as the little boy leaned into the contact.  
  
"I know. Just try to get some sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."  
  
David closed his eyes again with a fitful sigh. "I wanna go home."  
  
"Shhh," Leonard soothed, though he felt like it wasn't enough, that he should be doing more. Right now he couldn't even grant his son the comfort of taking him home, to a place where he at least knew his surroundings and wasn't stuck in a completely unknown place. "Doctor M'Benga is giving you medication, and it's going to make you feel better again in no time. You just sleep sweetheart, okay? I'll be right here if you need me."  
  
David nodded, and it didn't take long until he fell back into the fitful slumber that was neither really awake nor really asleep. Leonard waited until his breathing had evened out, then he looked up to check the monitors above the bed again. The temperature was still too high, as was the white blood cell count, and he didn't particularly like David's hydration levels either.  
  
"He'll sleep it off," a deep voice behind him said. "Barivian flu is hard on kids that young, but the worst should be over by tomorrow."  
  
Leonard knew that, damn it, and the expression on Geoffrey's face said clearly that _he_ knew Leonard knew it, as well. The words weren't so much meant as a reassurance than as a way to try and make Leonard recall his medical knowledge. Which was ridiculous, considering that Geoffrey was the one who had stopped Leonard from doing what he did best and simply be a doctor in the first place. If he had something else to focus on other than his worry, this whole situation wouldn't be this damn difficult.  
  
Jim had left David's bedside to talk to Geoffrey a little earlier and now he stepped up between Leonard and the bed, one hand on Leonard's shoulder as he ran the other through David's sweat-matted hair. Geoffrey checked the readouts on the monitors once more, adjusted some of the settings and turned back towards them. It was clear that he was talking to both of them, but he kept looking straight at Leonard, as if he knew that he was the one who needed more convincing.  
  
"I've adjusted the alarm thresholds, so we'll know immediately if David's condition worsens. But he's reacting to the medication, so I'm confident that by tomorrow morning he'll be back to charming my nurses again. The two of you should try to get some rest, as well. I'm going to grab some sleep in my office, but call me if you need anything."  
  
"Thanks, Doc," Jim replied with a confidence Leonard didn't feel, but he found himself nodding too.  
  
"Thanks, Geoff."  
  
And he meant it. He knew that Geoffrey didn't need to spend the rest of the night on the cot in the CMO's office. Rationally he knew that David's condition wasn't bad enough to warrant that, and that the nurses on duty were more than capable of dealing with whatever might come up. But it was a reassurance to know that Geoffrey was just a few feet away. Just in case.  
  
As Geoffrey left he drew the privacy curtain closed around David's bed, and Jim leaned against Leonard with a sigh, his hip pressing against Leonard's shoulder as he buried a hand in his hair.  
  
"I talked to Geoffrey. He gave me the lengthy version of what he just said. It looks scary, and he's going to be queasy for a few days, but he's going to be fine."  
  
"I know," Leonard sighed and tiredly rubbed his face with his hands. "I know."  
  
The feeling of a warm hand on the back of his neck was a relief, and he leaned into the touch.  
  
"I hate seeing him like this, too," Jim whispered, his voice a warm gush of breath against Leonard's hair. "But he's going to be fine."  
  
Leonard knew that, but David looked anything but fine to him right now. Normally he was a package of restless energy, the kind of child that was never quiet or still except for when he slept. And once he did that, he was out like a light. He might sprawl all over the bed and hog the covers, but then it was as if someone had pushed his off-switch and he was oblivious to everything around him for the next eight hours. This fitful tossing wasn't like their son at all, and it was driving Leonard crazy that he couldn't do anything to help him.  
  
Jim pulled the chair he had been sitting in earlier closer to the head of the biobed, so that they ended up sitting with their shoulders and thighs brushing. Before he settled, he brushed David's hair back again and refreshed the wet cloth against his forehead.  
  
"He's right, though. One of us should probably try to get some sleep."  
  
Leonard shook his head. "You go on ahead. I promised David I'd stay here."  
  
However, Jim made no move to get up. He shifted a little closer, though, so that his head ended up leaning against Leonard's shoulder.  
  
"Nah, I think I'll stick around."  
  
He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but no matter how much he shifted and moved, it didn't seem to work out. Leonard was too focused on their son's flushed face and the clear signs of discomfort etched into it to notice until Jim intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand.  
  
"Bones, what is it?"  
  
Leonard blinked a few times and turned towards his husband.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You. You're as tense as I've ever seen you. I know that this sucks. I hate seeing David like this just as much as you do, but you heard Geoffrey. He's going to be just fine. I mean, he is, isn't he?"  
  
It was that note of insecurity in Jim's voice that did it, that made Leonard realize that his worry only increased Jim's own, as if he was keeping something about David's condition from him. Which he'd never do, but apparently right now they both weren't exactly at their best. He squeezed Jim's hand in turn.  
  
"He is. And I _know_ that. It's just…it's hard not being his doctor right now. I don't really know how to do that."  
  
Jim smiled sadly. "The first time he got really sick, it terrified me. He was what, five months old? And he suddenly got that high fever and was screaming the whole time, and I just wanted to grab him and drive to the nearest ER."  
  
Leonard remembered that night only too vividly, and he remembered that he had been just as terrified as Jim said he had been. The only thing that had stopped him from losing all connection to rational thought back then was that Jim had depended upon him keeping his head, and that he had been able to stuff his rising panic into the back of his mind and flee into the well-known refuge of the medical world – diagnosing, treating, curing.   
  
But that was exactly the problem, right now he couldn't do that.  
  
"So how do you do it?"  
  
Jim shrugged, his eyes glued to their son's face. "I trust you. And I trust Geoffrey. Besides, I know that you double checked all the results, and if there was any reason for you to believe that David needed different treatment, you'd have already taken over, regulations be damned. It sucks that he got sick, but it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. Let's just try to get some semblance of rest, because if he's really going to be better tomorrow, I'd say we're going to need it."  
  
Leonard felt a sigh escape his lips. It sounded ridiculously easy, but felt a lot harder. Jim's arm wrapped around his waist and he let himself be pulled against his husband's side.  
  
"To be honest, I thought you'd be freaking out about something else entirely."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
Jim shrugged against him. "David getting sick as soon as we take him into space for the first time. You know, what with space being _disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence_."  
  
Leonard couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped as Jim repeated his own words back at him.  
  
"Don't be an idiot, Jim. With the incubation period of Barivian flu, he must have caught it back on Earth. Probably in daycare. Space or not, he would have gotten sick. And even if the two were somehow connected, with us for his parents space is already a huge part of his life. I couldn't stop that even if I wanted to."  
  
David shifted on the bed then, mumbling something in restless sleep, and immediately two hands reached out to soothe. Once he had settled again, Leonard wrapped his arm around Jim and leaned against his shoulder. Jim pulled him even closer.  
  
"Try to get some sleep, Bones. I've got him."  
  
And what Jim had said was true – Leonard trusted Geoffrey. He trusted the Medical team of the Enterprise, and he knew that David was in the best hands, and that it was unlikely that his condition was going to worsen over night. But most of all, he trusted Jim. As long as Jim was around, maybe he could just close his eyes and try to get some rest.  
  
Jim had this watch.  
  
  
 _ **The End**_


End file.
